In Threes
by Misaia
Summary: Steve wants to learn how to ballroom dance and wonders, not for the first time, why he feels like he's known Tony his whole life. Tony obliges him, and wonders, not for the first time, if Steve remembers any of the conversations they'd had while Steve was unconscious in the ice. Established Steve/Tony. This is a sequel to an unwritten fic, note inside. Crosspost from AO3.


**A/N: This is a sequel to something I have not yet written. I know how that sounds, but it will make sense when I do have that other story started/written. Just keep an eye out for it! Thanks. **

Written to: Heartbeats (The Knife) - Jose Gonzalez, crosspost from AO3

* * *

"You want to learn how to ballroom dance."

Steve looked at Tony hopefully, and Tony swore if he started giving him puppy dog eyes he was going to have to do something drastic to make him feel manly again. Like consuming copious amounts of steak and alcohol before donning some coonskin cap and going off to the woods to shoot at small animals. Were there even woods near New York City? He didn't actually know, off the top of his head; he also didn't know if he was licenced to fire a gun in the state of New York, but he didn't suppose that was a big deal, him being Iron Man and all...

"Pleeeeeeeease?" Steve begged, and oh god, there were the eyes. Tony made a mental note to ask Jarvis to buy steak sauce. "You said I could have anything for my birthday. Anything."

"Well, yeah, I did say that, but when I said that it was sort of implied that it would involve sex," Tony said, grinning as a flush stole across Steve's face. "Most normal, well-adjusted people would take it to mean that. Then again, I'm not sure if that describes you."

"Okay, so call me a bit old-fashioned," Steve huffed in irritation. "And excuse me for not thinking about sex every seven seconds like that crazy statistic that Natasha has sent me on the Facebook."

Tony rolled his eyes. "It's just Facebook. Not 'The Facebook.' And I guess it's not such a surprise, 90 year olds' libidos aren't that great, you know what I mean?"

"Oh, God," Steve muttered, shuddering. "Don't remind me of how technically much older I am than you. It makes me feel all weirded out. Like I'm supposed to be your grandpa, or something."

"You could be my sugar daddy," Tony pointed out with a mischievous grin on his face. "I mean, obviously not, since I'm the one with mounds of cash, but you get the idea."

When Steve just stared at him in confusion, Tony sighed in exasperation and made another mental note to ask Jarvis to teach Steve some of the more popular expressions in modern culture.

* * *

"First, you've got to listen to the music," Tony said; Steve listened to him raptly, his full attention on him, and Tony smiled lovingly at the man standing next to him. He wondered if Steve had any memory of his time in the ice, wondered if he remembered talking to Tony at all while he was asleep. He supposed it didn't matter, he thought to himself as he walked around Steve and made sure his shoulders were straight and that he held good posture. They were together now, and Steve was here with him, and wouldn't be going away for a very long time. That had to count for something, didn't it?

"Listen carefully," Tony repeated. "And try to feel the rhythm underneath it all. We'll start off easy, in three four time. That means that there are three beats in a measure of music. It's used a lot in waltzes, and I guess a waltz is a pretty popular ballroom dance, like what you wanted to learn. Here. Count after me."

Steve repeated obediently in time with Tony, counting off 1-2-3's as violins crescendoed and faded through the room's surround sound system.

Once Tony had decided that Steve had mastered the art of counting, he beckoned Steve over to him.

"Alright, look," he gestured around them in a giant, square-like pattern. "A waltz looks like a box."

"A box?" Steve repeated, slightly confused. Tony rolled his eyes and took Steve's hands in both of his, figuring it would be easier to just show him what he meant.

"Here, let me lead," Tony said patiently. "I know, I know, you're taller and you're the top, you should lead, but let me just show you first."

Steve was more than willing to oblige as Tony took one of Steve's hands and set it on his shoulder, clasping the other one in his own. Steve smiled fondly down at Tony, and wondered why he felt so safe with him, why he seemed so familiar. Sure, they'd been together for forever (or it seemed like forever, it always seemed like forever with Tony, the way they bickered over the most trivial of things), and sure, he'd kind of been friends with Tony's father back in the day, but he couldn't quite put his finger on why understanding Tony seemed so...natural. He wondered how he was able to read the subtlest of Tony's moods, how he knew just what would calm him down and bring him out of an irritated haze when no one else could.

"Watch your feet," Tony complained, and Steve snapped out of his thoughts to find that he'd been treading on Tony's toes the entire time. "I totally get that you're new to this kind of stuff, but let me just tell you, it's pretty rude just to step all over people. And painful."

"Sorry, sorry," Steve said, smiling and leaning forward to press a kiss to the furrows between Tony's eyebrows. "I'll try to pay more attention."

"Where were you?" Tony wanted to know, as he led them effortlessly around the room, and Steve noted for the first time that it really was sort of like a square, moving in straight lines from one point to another in right angles. "You looked like you were a million miles away."

Steve shrugged, adjusting his grip on Tony's hand. "I dunno, I was just thinking. About stuff."

"Sex stuff?" Tony asked, arching his eyebrows at him. Steve couldn't help but laugh.

"No, not sex stuff, sorry. I was just wondering about some things that probably wouldn't interest you."

"Well, if it's not sex or money or amusement, I'm sure it can't be that interesting," Tony sniffed as he danced them back across the room again and a piano played arpeggios around them.

* * *

"You try leading now," Tony commanded, and Steve dropped his hand from Tony's shoulder to let Tony position it firmly on his waist. "And remember to count, it's always one-two-three, one-two-three, one-two-three. Two one-two-three's should lead you through the box. Or I guess you can do one, two, three, four, five, six, if that would be easier for you. And since you'll be the guy this time around, it's even more important for you not to tread on your partner's toes; it's okay when girls do it, because that's cute and they don't weigh too much and they'll probably blush all excited-like, but when guys do it, the girls will probably throw their fans at you and storm out in a huff. Granted, I don't have any paper fans, but you get the meaning. Plus, my toes are already sore from earlier."

Steve laughed and pressed kisses and apologies into Tony's hair as he began to slowly dance with him across the room.


End file.
